


Broken and Confused

by Blueeyedbeta24



Series: Broken and confused [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5535779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueeyedbeta24/pseuds/Blueeyedbeta24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“It’s okay.” Stiles lays his head back and breathes slowly. “Just let me get my head straight enough to get home and fake being fine, then I’ll get out of here.” He couldn’t let his Dad see him hurt. The man had just started to trust that Stiles could take care of himself with his group of were-friends and he didn’t want to prove him wrong with a shiny set of bruised ribs.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Stiles tries to figure out where his life is going as he begins to drift from his pack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken and Confused

Stiles needs a break. The newest big bad has just thrown him into a tree and it seems like the group is constantly forgetting his lack of super healing, because all of the supernatural superheroes just leave him clutching his side on the leafy ground. After the creature is defeated, Scott finally comes over to lift Stiles by the arm, but Stiles shrugs him off and pulls himself up. He gets a hurt look from his friend but the injured boy just ignores everyone and heads for his jeep. He hears Scott say “Make sure he’s alright” in the distance and the next thing he knows Derek is sliding into his passenger seat.

“I’m fine.” Stiles snaps without any prompt from his car mate. He still puts the gear in drive regardless. “I can’t go home like this.” He rubs at his ribs and flinches before rolling his eyes at his own fragility.

“We can go to my place.” Derek suggests and Stiles nods, setting off towards the older man’s new home. When Derek first came back he bounced around from hotel to hotel but he had finally settled in a small apartment downtown. Well as settled as Derek ever gets.

Once inside the apartment, Stiles tries his best to hide his limp. The pain is bad, but he hates making any sign of weakness incredibly obvious. 

Derek heads towards the kitchen and suggests, “Have a seat. I’ll grab some ice.” Stiles sighs and makes his way to the couch. 

“Yeah. Thanks.” So much for not being obvious. He takes a slow seat on the first place he finds. The couch is lumpy and worn. The whole apartment actually looks quite lived in and homey. It must have come fully furnished because heaven knows Derek Hale wouldn't go furniture shopping if his life depended on it. 

 

Derek makes his way back to the living room and hands Stiles a beer. “That’s booze.” Stiles points out the obvious with overdramatic suspicion.

The older man rolls his eyes and adds, “Yes,” with a shake of the bottle in the boy’s face.

“You’re offering me,” Stiles places his hand over his chest. “The underage son of a sheriff, booze?”

“Look if you don’t want it.” Derek turns back towards the kitchen and Stiles reaches out for the drink.

“No. Hey! Come back.” He tries and Derek shrugs, handing over the beverage. “Wait. Why do you have beer in your fridge?” Stiles asks before taking a sip. He’s had a few beers over the years but this one is actually enjoyable. Figures Derek would have good beer. The name is foreign on the label and probably costs more than Stiles’ jeep.

Derek takes a seat beside Stiles and mumbles, “for company.”

Stiles can’t hold in the burst of a laugh that escapes him. It burns in his ribs and he grabs his side. Derek scowls, “Shut up. I like the taste okay?” He throws out as he lounges back and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. 

Stiles shifts in his seat. “Okay.” The movement continues to irritate his injury and he finally squeaks out an “Ow. Shit. Ow.”

The older man turns his head towards the teen. His eyes trail to Stiles’ side. “I don’t have pain medication.” He says with a sympathetic flinch.

“It’s okay.” Stiles lays his head back and breathes slowly. “Just let me get my head straight enough to get home and fake being fine, then I’ll get out of here.” He couldn’t let his Dad see him hurt. The man had just started to trust that Stiles could take care of himself with his group of were-friends and he didn’t want to prove him wrong with a shiny set of bruised ribs. 

The pair falls into a comfortable silence. Stiles almost starts to doze while listening to Derek's soft breaths but he forces himself awake enough to say “I um. I’m glad you’re back,” because right at this moment he feels like he needs to say it.

“Me too.” Derek sits up and places his drink on the table. Stiles feels the movement and pulls himself out of his sleepy state to join Derek in his awakeness. They’re staring at each other now and Stiles wants to go back to the calm silence and near napping atmosphere they had moments ago.

Stiles suddenly feels judged and awkward as Derek squints down at the rip in the younger man’s shirt, showing the red and bruised skin on his torso. Stiles shifts, “The place is...well it’s not a burnt out shell of a mansion, an abandoned subway station, or a batman villain-esque loft...so there’s that.” He thinks he hears Derek chuckle, but Stiles is looking anywhere but his couch mate’s eyes of pity.

Derek adds, “it’s temporary.” and Stiles goes still. He was getting used to having Derek around again. In fact it felt like the only good thing that’s happened in awhile. The fights with Scott have decreased but he doesn’t feel like their relationship will ever be the same. He doesn’t really feel like himself around anyone lately. Derek coming back made him feel like maybe everything would eventually get back to normal.

“Oh.” Stiles sighs and fiddles with his hands around the nearly empty beer bottle.

“Scott won’t need my help much longer.” Derek says like Scott is the only person who needs him around and only for supernatural help. What about what Stiles needs? Does anyone ever think about that?  
Stiles feels himself tensing up. He gets that way a lot now and it drives him a bit crazy, just another way he no longer feels like himself. He was always so fluid and spazzy but now he constantly feels stoney and on edge. “I wouldn’t give him too much credit.” He huffs, “He nearly tore us all apart.” His anger seeps through to his fingers tearing away at the bottle’s label. Scott had become a true alpha but he didn’t feel like a true friend anymore. 

“You’re a pack. That doesn’t end because of a little arguement.” Derek assures, but it only riles Stiles up even more.

“Little argument?” He places the bottle down with a clank. “He almost got my Dad killed. He trusted Theo over me! He..” Stiles doubles over with a groaned, “Damn it.” 

Derek leans over and places a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Calm down. I’m just saying that Scott’s pack...your pack...is strong. You will all overcome this.”

Stiles disagrees and he’s honestly not sure he cares anymore, “maybe I don’t want us to.” 

Derek says “what was that?” and Stiles realizes he had just declared his doneness out loud. It was supposed to be something he kept locked up inside. It’s his own personal secret that he’s ready to leave this werewolf filled life behind. 

“I don’t know.” He shifts the ice lower to an ignored bruise on his hip. “When Scott first got bit I thought the whole wolf thing was awesome but now…” He stares out into the room, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” It’s oddly freeing to allow his secret to become less personal. 

“Do what exactly?” Derek questions like it should be simple to explain. Stiles doesn’t know what exactly. All he knows is that he never wants to see his father lying motionless in a hospital bed ever again, especially not if the man was lying there because of him. Derek adds, “you should be talking to Scott about this.” Stiles groans. “He is your…”

 

“If you say Alpha I will pour this ice down your skinny jeans.” He cuts Derek off and the older man smiles at the threat. 

“It’s true.” He says and places his hand on Stiles’ knee. “It will work itself out and if it doesn’t, no one is forcing you to stay.” When did Derek get so damn worry free? Stiles can’t just back out on his friends, if that’s what they still are, it’s not that easy. Derek pushes up from his seat and moves to the kitchen. “I’m gonna get something to eat. Want anything?”

It feels so normal. Like the two of them frequently sit in dimly lit living rooms chatting about life and nursing one of Stiles’ countless injuries. He really has missed Derek. When he left with Braeden Stiles thought it would be fine, it’s not like they were bffs or anything, but the loss had hit him harder than expected. He watches Derek rifle through his cupboards in the open kitchen and opens his mouth to speak but closes it again. Stiles was never great at listening to the part of his brain that allows him to avoid humiliation so he blurts out, “What are we?”

Derek stops what he’s doing and looks up, “What do you mean?”

Stiles stands and makes his way to Derek. “I mean, if we were taking a stroll in the park and we ran into one of your high school buddies, how would you introduce me?” It was a question he’d wanted to ask for years. It had crossed his mind every time the pair’s arguments had diminished in to playful bantering or after the countless times they saved each other’s asses.

“High school buddies?” Derek turned his back to Stiles and continued rummaging for food.

“Don’t dodge the question.” Suddenly Stiles felt brave enough to vomit his confused emotions all over the other man. He was so lost in every aspect of his life lately. It would be nice to be sure of just one thing. 

“You left. I mean, I get that you needed quality time with Braeden. Who wouldn’t want that? But when you left it felt really final.” He leans on the counter and continues, “Obviously it wasn't, but it felt…” 

“Where are you going with this Stiles?” Derek faces Stiles and raises his eyebrow in confusion. 

Stiles runs his hand through his hair and adds, “It’s sucked okay? I thought I didn’t care but then I found myself missing our back and forth and I’m staring at your initials in the library thinking ‘man I really miss that big sourwolf’ and there’s these feelings that I don’t really understand and didn’t think I needed to try to understand because you were gone, but then there you were again. You’re back in my life and…” Stiles feels a sharp twinge in his side and he steadies himself. “Geeze, maybe I should go see Melissa.” He tries to take a breath but the aching in his ribs is making it extremely difficult. 

“You should lie down.” Derek comes around the counter and takes hold of Stiles’ arms. 

Stiles feels dizzy and he’s not sure if it’s the pain or the fact that they’re facing each other now and the older man’s face is so close to his own. “Hi.” Stiles breathes out and steps a little closer.

Derek’s lip curves up slightly and he shakes his head. “Stiles.” He says it like he means “You are such an annoying yet adorable little shit.”

Stiles takes a step off the edge in a desperate attempt to finally make something in his life make sense. He presses his lips to Derek’s and wraps his arms around the other man’s body, careful to not put too much pressure on his injury. It’s gentle, chaste, and feels like it doesn't last long enough, but it’s nice. It feels calming, like Derek’s lips are the xanax Stiles has been needing to curb the excruciating anxiety he’s felt over the past few years. 

Derek pulls away after a moment of lingering and Stiles is sure to take note that the freak out wasn’t immediate. Derek at least liked it enough to not punch him in the face for doing it.

Stiles stands awkwardly as he watches Derek pace around the living room. The older man is tracing his lips with his fingers like he’s equally trying to sear the moment into his memory and wipe it from existence. 

Stiles breaks the silence with another question that’s been plaguing him, “Did you miss me?” Derek looks over at Stiles and their eyes meet. Stiles adds, “Did you think about me at all?

“Of course I did.” Derek sighs and continues his pacing. 

“Then answer the question.” Stiles voice begins to rise, “What are we?”

The silence returns and Stiles feels that familiar tension make its way up to his shoulders. He wants an answer and he wants that answer to be the thing that breaks apart the wall and reminds Stiles what it feels like to be himself again.

“I’m confused too.” Derek states and that’s not exactly what Stiles was hoping for, but he could work with that. The younger man takes a step forward, but Derek is quick to step back further into the living room. “You should talk to Scott.” Derek holds out his hand like he wants to point Stiles to the door but it kind of just stays there hanging between them. 

Stiles stills with a sudden unwanted realization. He squints his eyes, “You’re going to leave again aren’t you?” 

Derek remains quiet. His eyes begin to roam the room, focusing on anything but Stiles. The younger man lets out a sigh and slowly nods his head. “Right.” Stiles takes a step closer to the front door. “Thanks for clearing that up.” He adds with the trademark Stilinski sarcasm. 

“Stiles,” Derek starts to make his way over to the door but he stops himself short. 

“No it’s...It’s fine. I need to go mend my ribs and apparently my ‘pack’ so I better get going.” Stiles uses finger quotes to emphasize his disconnect to Scott’s pack. This was supposed to help. Derek was supposed to help, but now Stiles just has one more thing in his life that makes him feel unwanted.

“See you Derek.” He throws over his shoulder as he walks out of the door. 

He waits there for a moment on the other side. His mind plays a movie of Derek swinging the door open and pulling Stiles into a deep kiss, only pulling apart to whisper “this is what we are” against Stiles’ lips. It doesn’t happen. Nothing ever happens the way it does in Stiles’ head. He’s no longer going to be spending his golden years rocking in a chair next to Scott or studying abroad in France with the Argents, or having amazingly hot sex with the werewolf of his desires. Dreams don’t come true, at least not for him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still really new at posting my writing, so be gentle? Sorry for grammar mistakes. I am without a beta. Volunteers in that area would be much appreciated. 
> 
> Tumblr: blueeyedbeta.tumblr.com


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